


One for every day of the week

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-12
Updated: 2008-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	One for every day of the week

**Monday's child is fair of face.**  
The oldest child in the Wentz-Stump household is Pierce Wentz, and who resembles his dad most of all. His dad's smile, his dad's swagger, his dad's compelling stare. He's the one that also gave Patrick the most grief when Patrick finally succumbed to Pete's constant nagging to move into the bigger house; he was unforgivably rude to Patrick, he yelled at his father, _terrible_ , terrible things that sent Pete into red-tinged rages and resulted in slamming doors and the younger children crying quietly in corners until a parent or Christine came to comfort them.

But, as much as Pierce possesses his father's self-righteous temper, he also has his father's deeply considerate nature. When he saw the desperation in his father's eyes when Patrick murmured, "I really don't think this is working, Pete," he backed off. A lot.

"I like you," Pierce told Patrick during a very serious conversation one day at the breakfast table. "Seriously, I really do. But sometimes I... I feel that I _hate_ you for breaking up my family."

Patrick had looked at him, then gazed pointedly at the baby snoozing contentedly in Pierce's lap. Pierce looked down at the baby's curly hair and tightened his lips.

"I didn't break up your family," Patrick had told him in a voice that was both cold and comforting, a really strange combination. "I just helped to make it bigger."

*

 **Tuesday's child is full of grace; Wednesday's child is full of woe...**  
Reva and Vera Wentz are the twins, and they're more Simpson than Wentz, which is a constant relief for Pete.

"Can you imagine if they all got my teeth?" He always laughs. "Oh man. The braces would be _epic_."

Reva wanted to change her name to Maven when she was six, because she had heard the phrase _fashion maven_ , and thought the writer was referring to her. Reva adores clothes. She spends most of her free time at Clan, pestering the designers and conducts fashion shows at home, in the big living room; not the one with the TV, the other one. Sometimes, she gets Patrick to produce an actual track for her shows, which Patrick does with amused reluctance. The baby is the one that suffers the most under Reva's attentions, and toddles around in ridiculous fluffy concoctions that has Pete trying to compose himself and failing completely, while the dogs scurry around.

"Oh man, poor honey-bunch!" Pete would coo over the baby, picking him up from the floor and laughing almost uncontrollably. "Ree! Did you have to put him in this amount of lace?"

"Lace is in!" Reva invariably yells back. "The more lace, the better. Come on, Daddy, put him down! I have a show going on here. Hit it, Patrick!"

Vera isn't necessarily _sad_ all the time, just distressingly serious for her age, and sometimes an annoying know-it-all. Hermione-annoying, is what Pete calls her. She's Uncle Andy's favourite, even if he doesn't say that right out loud, and whenever he comes to visit, they sit on the back-patio engaged in long, intense conversations about worldwide issues. Vera actually had a little crush on Andy, which made Pete laugh until he wheezed when Patrick told him one night as they were safely enclosed in their bedroom, not having been disturbed by the younger children as yet.

Afterwards, Pete called Andy and threatened him in a rather rambling and vague manner, which confused Andy very much.

*

 **Thursday's child has far to go.**  
Richie: the youngest Wentz, and (he feels) the most invisible. After Pierce's sharp good looks and the twins' separate brands of intensity, who's Richie? Just a quiet, chubby kid who isn't really good at anything at all. He's not dashing, like Pierce. He's the last person Reva puts in her fashion shows and Vera always tells him he's a dork-head when he doesn't get all his maths right, and he has to go to her for help.

So maybe he is.

"I was a huge dork when I was younger," Patrick tells him casually, when they're scarfing down some pizza. Everyone is scattered all over the floor and the sofa, it's movie night, and they're watching _The Princess Bride_ again. Except the baby, who's trying to eat Patrick's shirt. "I still feel I'm a dork, sometimes."

Richie turns and gives Patrick a very disbelieving stare. 'Cause Patrick is the coolest. Yeah, so maybe Pierce had a problem when he finally moved in with his kids, but Richie loves him and he likes his stepsisters and the baby is awesome, and he's really glad Pierce stopped being stupid about everything.

Patrick grins. "Oh yeah, the hugest dork you ever saw. King of dorks."

"Did Daddy think you're a dork?" Richie adores his Dad, but in a distant manner, the way a young artist might adore their favourite Van Gogh.

Patrick looks over at Pete, who is reciting lines from the movie ( _Love is pain, highness. Anyone who says different is selling something_ ) and grins even more. "You wouldn't believe it, Rich. But your dad was a massive dork too."

Richie blinks and then inspects his dad as the baby clambers over the sofa to him, legs wobbly, and tries to eat Richie's slice of pizza right out of his hands; he yells in complaint when Patrick plucks him away from his sneaky devouring. Richie grins and takes a thoughtful bite; there's hope for him after all.

*

 **Friday's child is loving and giving**  
Christine Stump was torn between dismay and delight when her father told her that they'd be moving to the large Wentz house. On the one hand, it meant that her parents were _really_ through. There was no hope of getting them back together, ever. On the other hand, it meant that her dad's smiles would be constant now, since he always smiled around Pete.

And if she had another hand, it meant that she would get to run the Wentz house.

Oh man, this is what Christine was _made_ for. Her mom wasn't really the type that liked housework and stuff like that, and preferred to hire someone to come in and clean, which was okay as far as Daddy was concerned. But he had become positively livid when he found out that Mom had gone to a party when he'd been on tour, leaving Christine and Sam alone with a new maid. She'd never seen her dad so mad before. She'd been scared, and had called Pete, who had come over with his loud brood to calm Daddy down. It had taken awhile, and Pierce had glowered at everything while he was there, but her parents had finally stopped shouting and Pete had hugged Patrick tightly before dragging his kids back to their home.

When Mom left, Christine decided that she'd make everything perfect. She'd be the best cook, the best cleaner, the best sister to Sam.

"Why would you want to make everything perfect, sweetie?" Her dad had asked one day; she had been having a hard time with Sam, and for some reason had burst into frustrated tears. She wanted everything to be _just right_ , and it wasn't going her way at all.

"Because it has to be!" she had sobbed, scrubbing furiously at her traitorous eyes. "It has to be, so Mommy can come back!"

"Oh, Chrissie," her father had sighed, hugging her tightly. "I... I honestly don't know what to say about that. But you and your sister, you're all I could ever ask for. I don't need anything to be perfect, as long as I have you."

That.... that had been comforting. Still, Christine likes taking care of everything. She likes helping out Reva's fashion shows and making sure the baby doesn't eat all that lace. She loves it when Joe and Marie come over, because that means they might stay the night, and they need fresh towels in the night and extra coffee in the morning. When Vera is too busy, Christine likes helping Richie with his homework and reading to Sam before they go to bed. She likes taking her Daddy's jacket when he comes home from the studio, hanging it neatly in the closet and finding Pete's glasses where he last left them, so he can go through the bills.

"You're like, my little Susie Homemaker," Pete tells her fondly as she makes up the shopping list. "Oh, did you put flour on that? You did? Awesome, let's roll."

She's not Susie Homemaker, she thinks smugly as they march out to the car. She's the Stump-Wentz Homemaker. _Big_ difference.

*

 **Saturday's child works hard for a living**  
Samantha Stump sees the world differently from everyone else.

Or maybe, she lives in her own world.

She doesn't really like talking to people, or she doesn't really know how. It's like, when they ask her stuff, Sam just doesn't know what they want her to say. So she doesn't say anything. She took a very long time to start talking, anyway, and her mom had been afraid that she was deaf.

"She's not deaf, Mrs. Stump," a doctor had said to her mother's tightly disappointed face. "She's just taking her own time in what she wants to do."

But ask her about music, and Sam is all words. _Anything_ about the rudiments and theory of music, and Sam is all over that. She likes going into the basement and finding her father, and talking his ear off about some progression she had heard in a commercial a few moments ago. Most times he listens very patiently; sometimes, he looks kind of exasperated. There are very few things she likes, and even fewer people she'll talk to willingly, but music is everything. She wants to play every instrument _in the world_.

Pete had said, "Wow, this one is all Stump," the first time she'd done that to him, and Sam had thought he'd been mocking her, so she had gone crying to Daddy. He had told her that no, Pete hadn't been making fun of her, he had just been totally amazed by how much like Daddy she was.

Sometimes Sam is kind of sensitive about everything, and sometimes she gets stuck in one movement or thought, repetitive and soothing for her brain which tries to process everything differently, but she really can't help it. It's just the way Sam's world is.

"The whole world is going to think you're weird, Sammy Stump," Pete had told her with an apologetic grin much later; Sam had stared up at him unblinkingly. "Don't let them make you think that being weird is a bad thing."

*

 **The child that's born on the bright Sunday**  
The baby is mischief incarnate. He wasn't born a Wentz, but Pete claims that he's just as much trouble as Pierce had been at that age. He wasn't born a Stump, but everyone always says he looks like Patrick. His name is Graham Stump-Wentz, and, according to Reva, when the family undergoes a _People_ magazine interview, "He's totally like Nicole Richie. My dad and Patrick adopted him and he's the most amazing baby ever."

Graham likes to be carried around on Pierce's shoulders, laughing delightedly. He hates Reva's fashion shows and scowls when he's staggering down the 'runway', which is just a cleared path in the smaller living room. For some reason, his current hobby is biting Vera, especially on the leg, and shrieking with laughter when she yelps and rubs her foot. He likes getting chummy with Richie, slinging his arm around his big brother's shoulders and tugging on his hair as they walk around in the back-yard and inspect the flowers.

Christine makes the best mashed potatoes and he likes listening to Sammy talk, it puts him to sleep. But best of all, he likes escaping from his crib and going into the big bedroom, to crawl between Pete and Patrick, where he's supposed to be. Sometimes the door might be locked, like tonight, so Graham does the usual: he stands outside and babbles loudly until one of them comes to open it, looking strangely disheveled.

"Oh man, Graham," Pete groans, pulling the belt of his robe tight as Graham marches purposefully over to the bed, clambering up with the determination of a mountain climber. "Jeez, Patrick and I were just getting--"

"Pete," Patrick says with a stern laugh, holding out his hands so that Graham can fall into his arms with a four-toothed laugh. "Hey, baby."

"Daddy, where's Gra--, oh here he is." Christine runs in and leaps into the bed to cuddle close to Patrick, followed by Sam and Richie. There is a massive struggle for the pillows and apparently, all bed real-estate around Patrick is highly coveted. Pete sighs.

"Vera and Reva are next," he intones and on-cue, the twins walk in, piling at the foot of the bed, yelling for the television remote. "And... Pierce, entering stage left."

"What's all the commotion about!" Pierce bounds in with typical teenage Wentzian drama, shoving legs and arms out of the way. "Hey, get your toe out of my nose!"

"Hey, good thing we bought this huge bed, right, Patrick?" Pete is almost at the very edge of the bed, peering at Patrick on the opposite side with a wry, happy grin as the kids squabble.

"A very good thing," Patrick murmurs with a soft smile and the baby manages to bite Vera on the leg, giggling as she yells; Graham surveys his kingdom proudly, tucking himself against Patrick again and sucking his thumb; and everybody is perfect just where they are, just where they're supposed to be.


End file.
